Groovy Kind of Love
by titaniasfics
Summary: Peeta's torture and hijacking leave him with more than bad memories. One-shot inspired by the song Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins


**I started this one-shot during a rare break at work. I have been so busy since December that I ended up missing the birthdays of all these great people in my life. So I offer this as a belated birthday gift to my betas and all my friends who have had a birthday in the last few months and for whom I've been unable write anything. These girls mean the world to me. If I left anyone out, I swear it wasn't intentional (email me and I'll fix it). These are the folks who had a birthday in the last three months:**

**solasvioletta**

**bubblegum1425**

**peetabreadgirl**

**katnissdoesnotfollowback**

**abbythebear**

**jamiesommers23**

**ackennedy7**

**ghtlovesthg**

**esq2u**

**madambeth**

**loving-mellark**

**chele20035**

**notanislander**

**hinkeeverlark**

**jhutchmyanchor**

**Happy birthday, happy betaing and thank you for being my friend!**

**PS - NGL, I had no one left to beta this, lol. Any messes contained therein belong entirely to me.**

**Groovy Kind of Love**

**_Anytime you want to you can turn me onto_**

**_Anything you want to, anytime at all_**

**_When I kiss your lips, ooh I start to shiver_**

**_Can't control the quivering inside_**

**_Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love_**

**_When I'm feeling blue, all I have to do_**

**_Is take a look at you, then I'm not so blue_**

**_When I'm in your arms, nothing seems to matter_**

**_My whole world could shatter, I don't care_**

**_Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love_**

**from ****_Groovy Kind of Love_**** by Phil Collins**

_"__You said if I cooperated with you, you would return me to my family!" he hurled accusingly toward the smug figure of President Snow as his legs were bound to the hospital bed. _

_"__Well, there was a slight...complication," the President of Panem said slowly, smiling as if addressing a child whose birthday party had been rained out. "You see, District 12 is gone and your family...is dead."_

_Peeta's eyes widened, disbelief exploding across his face. "That's...that's impossible!" He tried to swat at the nurses who were trying to tie his arms to the gurney. "You're...you're lying!"_

_Snow smiled, a long, satisfied smile that Peeta wanted to rip off of his face. 'I assure you, Mr. Mellark. Your District, your people, your family - they're all gone and you have only Katniss Everdeen to blame for your misfortunes."_

_Peeta face twisted into a mask of rage and hatred, his eyes narrowing at his foe. He couldn't move and would certainly be at the mercy of whatever Snow contrived but his disbelief fueled his defiance. "She'd never do anything to hurt anyone!"_

_"__Now, Mr. Mellark, I thought we agreed to not lie to one another? Your devotion to Ms. Everdeen is admirable but the fact remains that is responsible for the suffering on so many." He paused, clearly savoring the moment. "She doesn't really love you. She's consistently used you - for comfort and protection, yes. But love? I believe she has reserved that for someone else."_

_Peeta struggled vainly against the binds that held him, something of his courage weakening under Snow's words. The President was preying on his fears and he knew it and resolved not to succumb to his lies._

_"__I don't believe a word you say!" Peeta hissed, struggling in vain to get off of the bed._

_"__Oh, but you will." Snow signaled to the doctor, who held a syringe in his hand. As the man in the white jacket approached Peeta's bedside, he said slowly, "Soon, you'll have no choice but to believe me."_

**XXXXX**

Peeta's eyes flew open, his breath coming in loud pants. The ache in his jaw that came from grinding his teeth too hard was confirmation that he'd had another nightmare. Running his hands through his sweat-dampened blond curls, he struggled to get his bearings before glancing over to see two large, sad grey eyes staring at him. Grasping at the comforter, he twisted it hard to make sure it was what it appeared to be before asking Katniss, "We're in Victor's Village, real or not real?"

"Real," Katniss responded, bringing her hand up to caress his stubbled cheek. "You're home."

Peeta nodded, the dull ache that often accompanied his nigthmares beginning to throb behind his eyes. "Did I wake you?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if waking her was hardly a matter worth worrying about. "I could tell you were having a nightmare."

He turned gingerly on his side to face her, trying to find a position that would dull the pain that was beginning to distract him. "I thought you couldn't tell if I was having a nightmare?"

Katniss furrowed her brow, the sad smile deepening as she traced his nose with her thumb. "I used to not be able to. But now I'm learning you."

"I'm sorry," he said as his eyes drifted shut again.

"No," she whispered. "Don't ever apologize." It was the last thing he heard before slipping back to sleep again.

**XXXXX**

When Peeta woke again, it was already late morning. The side of his bed where Katniss always slept was now cold and empty and he found the idea of her absence momentarily unbearable. A glance at the vanity chair told him she was probably hunting, since her pants and shirt were no longer there and this went a long way towards calming him. He swung his leg over the bedside, attaching his prosthetic before attempting to stand, steadying himself as the images of his nightmare rose up and receded in his mind, leaving behind a hollow emptiness in their wake.

He stumbled to the bathroom to splash water on his face when he caught sight of his appearance in the mirror. In the months since he'd returned to District 12, he'd gained back all of his original weight and looked healthy, almost robust again. His hair, a bit longer than he liked, had grown back in and the singed parts of his body no longer screamed in pain. He was presentable in public and that, in itself, was an enormous improvement over his previous condition. However, a nightmare like the one he'd had could produce a wave of misery that threatened to pull him under each time he relived the moment he learned of District 12's firebombing and the death of his family. It punched him in the gut as if it were the first time Snow uttered those words. He shook his head to clear his mind because he didn't want to buckle under the grief again.

Snow and his doctors told him that Katniss was responsible for the bombing of District 12, that she'd killed his family on purpose. They told him that she was the cause of all the bloodshed and horror of the Revolution. They told him that she didn't love him, showing him proof after proof, from the Arenas and Victory Tours, that she had used him and had really wanted him dead. That's why he'd been abandoned in the Quarter Quell. They used beatings, intense pain and tracker-jacker venom to break him and convince him that what they said was true. It had taken months of therapy to reset his brain again. Yet, even now, reality sometimes floated just out of his reach and he played the game of Real or Not Real to anchor himself again and keep from being carried away by his false memories.

A sound captured his attention, mercifully interrupting his dark thoughts. He listened carefully and caught the gurgle of water splashing into the metal bottom of the kitchen sink. A small smile broke across his grief-darkened features, heart pounding, not with adrenaline, but with a stab of excitement. He knew who was in the kitchen and even though it had been months since she moved in, each confirmation of her existence never failed to thrill him.

Peeta took another get himself under control. He didn't want Katniss to see him in this way - broken, at the edge of guilt and agony. She had enough to struggle with, a thought that was reinforced when he recalled the bed of primroses he'd weeded the day before.

Making his way down the stairs to the kitchen, he caught sight of her bent over her work, skinning and cleaning a rabbit she'd caught on her latest hunting trip. She didn't see him right away - the water was running and her back was to him. He fed on her appearance, his blood racing at the sight of the glossy rope of thick, dark hair braided down the middle of her back. It had grown back and was more luxurious than ever; hair he never tired of running his hands through. Her tank top clung to her slender torso, the muscles of her back and arms just visible beneath the web of scarred skin bunching and smoothing as she worked on the meat.

She wore her light hunting trousers with the large cargo pockets along the side of the pants leg. They were boyish and did not highlight any particular part of her body but she'd filled out also, with regular eating and the relative calm of post-war peace. He saw the evidence of it in the round curve of her bottom, the same one he'd gripped with desperate ferocity just the night before. He blushed at the memory of them, exploring and loving each other. The thought of it propelled a wave of heat through him that spread over the entire surface of his skin, down to his fingers and toes at the visions of her beneath him, the expression on her face so different from the scowl she presented to the world. It almost made him believe that she sought more than just comfort from him when they were together in that way.

Peeta tried to clear his head of those memories that were fast comprising the vast majority of his day dreams. Instead, he made his way to where she worked, trying not to startle her from her task. The intensity of her concentration gave way to a smile of welcome when she found him at her side.

"Rabbit," she said, as if that explained everything in the world.

"How would you like me to make it?" he asked as he helped her collect ingredients, fetching a pan to put the meat in.

"Roasted. With potatoes and rosemarine, I think. How about you?" Katniss asked as she chunked the now cleaned meat and placed it in the pan he'd brought her.

Peeta, meanwhile, picked a sprig of the green, prickly spice and collected potatoes from the cool, dark depths of the pantry closet. "Sounds perfect to me. Can I add garlic?"

She wrinkled her nose, an expression that made him smile as it reminded him of a chipmunk.

"Just a little bit, I suppose," she said as she gathered up the animal pelt. Katniss used the fur to line gloves and hats and sell them at the new open market in the town center. She never wasted a thing, even now that the government provided for her every need. The screen door of the kitchen banged shut behind her as she took the skins to her workshed outside, the place where she made her arrows, kept her snares and treated animal skins. Peeta worked contentedly, the heavy, dark feeling of earlier descending on him but with less force. He kept his mind on the tasks of washing the potatoes and seasoning the meat. It helped to keep the memory of his nightmare at bay.

When she returned, she cleaned up the rest of her kill, working briskly to disinfect the counters. Peeta listened to her move around the kitchen as he put the finishing touches on the meal. Suddenly, her movements stopped and he felt the gentle pressure of her arms around his waist. He froze and closed his eyes, leaning slightly into her so that her body was pressed firmly against his back and he could just make out the faint impression of her beating heart against him.

She squeezed him to her before she reached up to bring her lips to his ear. "I'm going...to...wash up," she stammered, suddenly sounding very shy. "You...could...could you help me?" she said in a small voice.

"Help you...wash up?" he asked in confusion. "You mean - _oh_…" He was sure that there was smoke puffing out from his ears. She was never that bold and it disoriented him completely. He forgot what he should do next as she withdrew her arms, her hand lingering suggestively on the small of his back before she left the kitchen, her steps on the stairs receding as she made her way up to their bedroom.

As soon as she was out of sight, Peeta gripped the edge of the baking pan, the full implication of her invitation dawning on him. Suddenly, he was at the oven door, practically flinging the meat inside, not bothering to warm the oven first. He set the timer - it would not do to set the place on fire, after all.

He took to the stairs, first two at a time, then more calmly so as not to startle her, since she was fidgety and on edge even when she was calm and it was easy to frighten her. This was also a consequence of their experiences and another thing they struggled to adapt to.

The water was already running in the bathroom, her hunting clothes hanging on the back of the chair. From the sound of it, she had prepared a bath in the large bathtub. Peeling off his clothes, Peeta folded everything neatly on the seat of the same chair on which she'd hung her garments and debated whether to remove his prosthetic or not, finally opting to leave it on.

Katniss was already submerged in the steaming water, leaning back with her eyes closed against the edge, the ends of her hair floating loosely in the water. His eyes followed the outline of her body - the olive skin etched with fire burns that appeared distorted where the water met her skin. Her waist was quickly becoming submerged as the tub was filled. Just above the vortex of her belly button, which fascinated him so much, he could spend a day swirling his tongue around it, her arms were crossed demurely over her breasts - from cold or modesty, he could not tell.

As Peeta's eyes drifted downwards, he could not help but stare at the dark triangle of hair that peaked out from the juncture of her thighs, ripples of water caressing the dark patch. It was so much more unkempt than the first time they'd made love and her body had still showed signs of the Capitol treatment that kept her sculpted and neat. The wildness of those curls excited him, being so much more in keeping with her character than the thin strip of hair that had once appeared to be painted on her. His gaze slid further down her legs, slightly bent to keep her from sliding along the bottom of the tub.

He stood quietly, taking all of her in. Katniss's instincts, honed from years of hunting, sensed his presence. She opened her eyes drowsily to look at him, her grey eyes sweeping his naked body with the same lingering slowness with which he'd studied her. It occurred to him that Katniss really _wanted_ him and the thought that she might seek more than comfort from him, that she might truly experience pleasure beyond the need to heal from their multiple traumas, set his every nerve to quivering. His arousal, already stiff and hard from the simple fact of being close to her, became painful from imagining her wanting him the same way he wanted her.

Hanging thickly in the quickly moistening air was a fragrance he couldn't place. He took a deep drag of it, casting a quizzical look towards Katniss. She smiled lazily and responded to his unspoken question, "Lavender. I found a bush."

"It's nice," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Hmmm…" she hummed in approval, the water now just under her breasts. "It's considered soothing when you're under stress."Uncrossing her arms, she leaned forward to shut off the spigot, scooting to the middle of the tub.

"Thank you," he said, knowing that she'd brought the flowers home for him.

She nodded as she stretched her hand towards him in silent invitation, her firm, round breasts collecting the rivulets of water at their dusky tips, releasing the dewey droplets into the heated water. Peeta hesitated, unable to get the words out of his mind until he said them out loud.

"Do you really want me?" he asked, his voice quavering as he heard Snow's words in his mind. _She doesn't really love you._

Katniss appeared taken aback, a frown suddenly appearing on her face. However, instead of answering, she rose onto her knees, capturing his hand and pulling him towards her. When he was near, she reached up and grasped his erect cock, rubbing it's length languidly as she stared up into his eyes.

"Yes." She held his gaze as she took him in her mouth, laving and bathing him with her tongue before closing her lips around his rigid shaft, sheathing him as deeply as she could. She worked over him the way she'd learned he liked it - firmly, beginning as far down the base as she could get and sucking upwards. She bobbed her head, her velvety lips sliding up and down his shaft until he twitched in her mouth. He shook his head, pulling himself out of her mouth, because he didn't want to come just yet.

"Fine." said Katniss with a triumphant air as she released him. "Now, are you coming in while it's still warm?" she asked.

"Yeah," he croaked, barely able to speak and half-mad with his desire for her. Careful to keep his prosthetic firmly on the damp tile and not slip, Peeta stepped into the water and sat behind her, pulling her against his chest. His erection pressed insistently into her back and she ground backwards into him, eliciting a groan and a shiver of excitement from him.

His hands, large and calloused from years of baking mishaps and the burns from the Capitol fire that had almost destroyed them both, covered her breasts. He kneaded her soft mounds until Katniss, so resolutely silent sometimes that an entire day would pass without her saying a word, released a loud moan. The reverberating echo of her husky voice, the gentle sloshing of water and their deep, heavy breathing were the only other sounds that could be heard. He covered her wet neck and shoulder with hot kisses, savoring the taste of water on her skin. One large hand slid down her flat belly, pausing only to worry her belly button before slipping farther until his fingers were buried within that savage burst of dark curls that floated in the water beneath the surface.

He was now the hunter and the forest of her thighs widened beneath his onslaught. Even with the water, her own heat and slickness felt warmer and thicker than the surrounding liquid, drawing him in until his fingers found her swollen clit. He was shaking now with his desire for her, marveling at how different she was with him at this moment than from the way he remembered her falling apart beneath him last night. He thought of how many mysterious, hidden ways she revealed herself, how he could spend a lifetime discovering the multitude of ways she could come undone and it made everything that happened before almost unimportant. The world could shatter - what he held in his hands was all that mattered to him.

The sound of her voice penetrated the cloud of his thoughts as she leaned back and turned her lips to his ears, "I couldn't stop thinking of you." she said breathlessly, in bursts of air that were coming faster, "In the woods...I saw a deer…" she said breathlessly as her words made his hand more steady, the circles he drew on her sex more concentric and focused. "I tried to shoot her and I lost my aim," she buckled her hips upwards, trying to gain more friction against his hand as her hands gripped his legs on either side of her. "I didn't care...I wanted...to get back to you...so badly..." the last syllable was swallowed up as her back bowed, almost of it's own volition, the heat of her orgasm ripping through her, turning her words into high-pitched moans. He stared at her in awe, memorizing the look of her closed eyes, her open, exultant mouth. The sound of his name was buried in her cries and became etched deep in his memory, to be pulled out later when he was alone and lost in longing for her.

"You like this…?" he asked as she floated back from her high, collapsing against his chest as she practically purred with satisfaction.

"Yes…" she whispered turning around to face him, caring little for the water that splashed over the edge of the tub, "Can't you tell that I like it?" She lowered her lips to his and attacked his mouth, gently but insistently pressing her way past his lips. She had her way with him, tugging his lips with her teeth, sweeping against his tongue and filling him with the taste of her. When she suspended her assault, she straddled him, positioning herself over erection.

"But..." he tried to speak but was unable to hold onto the thread of this thought before all thinking melted between the heat of her legs.

"Peeta, please..." she begged, sheathing herself on his cock and sinking down, both of their faces twisted in an attitude of pleasure that was almost as acute as pain. "I want to do _this_. Only with you. Always." she murmured against his lips as she slid up and down his cock, tightening her muscles when she rose up over him, then plunging back down, her grey eyes ablaze with her heat, the flaring embers of her orgasm and the effort to speak. Digging her fingers into his unruly hair, she guided his mouth to her breasts, pressing the swollen mounds to his lips. He parted them and obediently took in one of her hard nipples, lapping and sucking on the hardened tip.

Katniss threw her head back, her mouth agape as she slid up and over him while he showered her breasts with the attention she desperately sought. He ran his hands down her back and over her round ass, grabbing her, guiding her rhythm. Water continued to escape over the edge of the tub in rhythmic waves as she gripped the hard, marble sides to give her more leverage. Peeta reached behind her with the tip of his fingers to feel his cock plunging in and out of her.

"Squeeze me," she hissed, pressing down on him and grinding onto his cock, causing him to grunt loudly. He did as he was told and grabbed each cheek in his strong hands, squeezing them hard, her back arching in response. He felt his balls tighten and knew he was close. She must have sensed this also because she reached down between them and touched herself, tracing her clit in circles the way Peeta had done earlier until everything in her belly tightened and sprang loose, her body quaking in his hands as she came with loud shouts.

"Peeta!" she cried, over and over, her muscles drawing him in, his cock stiffening before spurting inside of her, the spasms tangled with hers as she gave up the last of her waves. Deep tremors wracked his body as his orgasm subsided. Katniss lay with her head on his shoulder, panting and shivering, from her receding pleasure and her own drying skin. Most of the water was on the floor, swirling down the drain in the middle of the bathroom.

Peeta leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, hovering in a twilight world of satiation and bliss, every doubt and nightmare overshadowed up by the concrete solidity of Katniss' body resting against his. She clung to him now, her wet arms having threaded up his back, behind his shoulders, in no hurry to let him go.

"You believe me, real or not real?" she asked hoarsely, the damp hairs of his chest clinging to her cheek.

He thought about asking her again - if he was just a comfort to her or if she really wanted this, for its own sake. He wanted to ask her if this hunger she had for him was real or not real, whether this was a twisted fantasy created by the tracker-jacker venom, conceding his heart's desire, only to be cruelly taken away. Will he be gutted and destroyed when he finally wakes to find this was all a dream in his venom-addled mind?

Instead, he gripped her tightly, reveling in how very real she felt to him. It couldn't be any other way.

"Real," he said, leaving a kiss on the top of her head.


End file.
